


Synchronicity

by Two_Guns_And_A_Knife



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Guns_And_A_Knife/pseuds/Two_Guns_And_A_Knife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meaningful and meaningless quests and coincidences. Silly adventures. Poor decisions. Cupcakes may be harmed or even maimed. A Happy New Year story with a Babe HEA. Yes, that's right. A Babe HEA. Theme Song: Wrapped Around Your Finger by The Police.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mephistopheles

**Mephistopheles**

She tried to cook something from scratch and ended up summoning a demon.

The demon looked at her with bottomless golden eyes and smiled.

And she sold her heart and soul for one dollar.

In a puff of smoke the demon left and she stared at the coin on her open palm.

She was all alone. In Joe's kitchen.

Tomorrow they would be officially wedded in front of family and friends. Inside the church.

Her wedding gown was really pretty. Her mother was really happy. All her friends were extremely excited.

"I can do this." She stared at the slightly tarnished coin. Her voice sounded weird in her own ears.

"I can do this." She repeated. Her hand wasn't shaking. Sex. Love. Family. Happiness. She deserved it all. She had learned to cook.

She would be a perfect housekeeper.

She would be a great mother.

Her children wouldn't be starving.

Her husband would be happy.

Her house would be tidy.

Every evening she would serve creamy mashed potatoes. There would be cheese in the sauce. Every sauce. All the sauces.

And garlic. A generous amount of garlic. A hearty amount of garlic.

Garlic and cheese. Joe's favorite.

To be married on the first day of the New Year. Yeah. She stared at the coin. She smiled at the coin. She could feel its warmth.

She could do it. She would do it.

She deserved it all.

Joe deserved it all.

And she did love Joe. The unquestionable passion. The hairy torso. The smile. The trust.

The...

The...

The...

Her face twitched a little. Her heart fell into silence. Her soul was now but an empty void. Sold. To be collected at a later date. Both.

A little something inside her snorted.

Cliché.

How cliché.

But this was her choice. This was what she wanted. Everyday reality and ordinary happiness. Batman is a comic. Batman didn't exist.

And all the jokers and clowns were here.

She stared at the coin on her open palm. Joe's kitchen smelled of rotten eggs. Or was it sulphur? She blinked once. She blinked twice.

Tomorrow would be a busy day. Hairdo. Makeup. Bra. Panties. All the tiny details.

Once she put on the ring, she wouldn't take it off.

Wouldn't. Couldn't. A little something inside her snickered. Liar.

She needed to go to bed earlier. It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Tonight, she would sleep alone.

Romeo and Juliet.

West Side Story.

Grease.

She cleaned up the kitchen and went upstairs. She closed her eyes as the clock struck twelve.

The slightly tarnished coin shone like another sun inside the bedside drawer.

She burrowed deeper into the comforter.  _Happy New Year to me..._

The wind howled louder.

The world turned black.

 


	2. Mistoffelees

**Mistoffelees**

Her hair was perfect.

Her makeup was perfect.

Her gown was perfect.

So were her shoes, her smile, the flowers, the weather, and the music.

All she needed to do now was to walk down the aisle and get married.

She'd done this before. She wasn't at all nervous.

She held her chin high.

She kept her breathing even.

Her smile remained in place.

Her curls were smooth, and rich, and vibrant.

She had spent years waiting for this moment. To start a new family. To give and to love. To be a whole woman.

The little something inside her kept its silence.

The wedding cake was made by an extremely famous family-owned bakery in Hoboken.

Some of the guests would get drunk.

All of the guests would dance the Chicken Dance.

Step by step. She walked toward Joe. Her soon-to-be husband. Grandma Bella's favorite. The Italian Stallion.

All the hairs on his body. All the passion. All the lean mean muscles.

Yes, Joe would be a great father.

The elderly priest smiled at her.

_Do you take this man as your lawful husband._

_To have and to hold._

_From this day forward._

_For better or for worse._

_For richer or for poorer._

_In sickness and in health._

_To love and cherish._

_Until death do you part?_

The sound of her blood. Racing through her veins. Roared in her ears.

Her smile twitched a little, her throat suddenly as dry as a desert. Slightly her hands trembled.

The kind priest was waiting for her answer.

Joe was waiting for her answer.

Everyone in this big wild world was waiting for her answer.

The little something inside her was waiting for her answer.

_Don't bend. Don't break. Baby. Don't back down._

She took a deep deep breath. This was her life and her choice. This was her own decision.

Calmly and slowly she said, in a clear crisp tone:

"Potato."

The world fell silent.

The old priest blinked. Joe's smile faltered. Some people gaped. Some people gawked.

Some people frowned in confusion. Her mother almost fainted.

She widened her eyes. She opened her mouth.

Once again she said it loud and clear.

This was her life.

This was her choice.

This was her decision.

Did she not deserve happiness?

Did she not deserve to be a whole woman?

Did she not deserve it all?

Husband. Children. Pet. White picket fence. Rose garden.

Diapers. Condoms. Love. Sex. Pills. Hot meals on the table.

The little something inside her stirred and hummed a little.

Her voice echoed through the silence:

"Potato."

The tarnished coin inside her bedside drawer burst into cold invisible flames.

The crowd exploded.


	3. Faustus

**Faustus**

She stood there in a gown with a mermaid skirt.

The only thing she could say was, "Potato."

Irritated. Upset. Impatient. Her mother. Joe's mother. Joe.

The kind old priest was at a loss for words. One or two or perhaps three of the guests giggled.

She dared not turn to look at Joe.

Those brown eyes. Those two pools of boiling chocolate.

Indignation. Accusation.

She dared not turn to look at her mother.

What was her father thinking? And her sister? And her friends?

She couldn't tell.

This was her path. This was her choice. And somehow all she could say was, "Potato."

_Run, Stephanie._  Another little something at the bottom of her empty stomach whispered _. Run like hell._

Her heart, she suddenly recalled; she had sold her heart and soul, the previous day, to the golden-eyed demon.

Devil and the deep blue sea. Your sense and your sensibility. That slightly tarnished one-dollar coin. And your heart's and soul's desire.

_Run, Stephanie._ _Run like hell._

Inside her chest was now a gaping hole.

She looked pretty from head to hem but in fact she was but an empty shell.

A faceless void with no heart and soul.

And all she could utter was, "Potato."

Where had all the monsters gone?

_Run, Stephanie._ _Run like hell._

"Cupcake." Warning. Carefully contained anger. A subtle hint of resentment. Impatience. "Cut it out."

And she turned away from the altar and ran like hell. In a beautiful pair of high heels. In a beautiful gown with a mermaid skirt.

Perfect hair. Perfect weather. Perfect music. Perfect makeup. Perfect flowers.

She no longer had an apartment. She no longer had a hamster. She no longer had a gun. Nor did she had any bullets.

Queen Elsa of Arendelle and her ice palace.

_Run, Stephanie._ _Run like hell._

"Cupcake!"

Her stomach growled.

 


End file.
